The Morgue of Love - Mini Sherlolly Stories
by Doctor Susan Holmes
Summary: After "Moriarty" sort of states he's back, Sherlock immediately rushes to Molly because he foresees something awful... First real Sherlolly FanFic that was supposed to be a Oneshot, but who knows...?
1. Reunion

Before reading: Sorry for any mistakes concerning grammar or spelling I'm German and still have to learn a few things! Would be delighted if you could mention any mistakes in the comments so that I can change and learn from them! Thank you for reading this and I hope you're not disappointed!

Molly had just finished her work and was going to her locker to change and finally go home. She was so deep in thoughts, that she didn't notice the tall man with the black coat and dark-brown curls standing in the corner of the room. Since Sherlock had "died" (or rather gone abroad, for she knew the truth of what had happened) she had thought a lot due to the lack of someone to talk to. Sherlock had always been the one to talk to her (or more likely the other way around) when she was at work. He had also been one of the few or only people to frequently work together with a pathologist like her. Well, there also was Greg, but he only had come by some day or another then and he wasn't Sherlock to be honest. Since Sherlock's death he had visited her more often although there was no case to work on and she had found that strange but had not really dwelt on it. John had also visited her more often since that day, because for a long time she had been the only one he could talk to and confide into. It had broken her heart to see him this shattered and in so much pain and she had often wanted to tell him the truth but Mycroft and Sherlock had both made her promise to keep the secret. She had complained at first but Sherlock had insisted upon it and there was simply nothing she could deny him... Therefore she had lied to everyone not involved in the conspiracy and it had mentally drained her. For months she had neither heard from Sherlock nor Mycroft and eventually the pretension seemed more real to her than fake and made her wonder if Sherlock hadn't really died that day and she had just hallucinated an excuse to not have to grief.

But today was different. She somehow felt that things were going to change and was reminded again that it really did happen. Greg hadn't visited her today. John hadn't called like he usually did to ask how her day had been and if she would like to meet him. And since recently also Mary, his going-to-be-wife (at least according to what he had told and asked her for help about the other day). Mary was a nice match for him and really had made John move on and she also had become a good friend of hers. Molly guessed it was the perfect time – or the best there could possibly be – to finally tell them the truth. Of what she had heard of Adams rumors and the research she had done herself Sherlock would soon be here anyway. It was better to take precautions now instead of Sherlock, with no sense for human emotion, letting his best friend know that he was still alive. She could imagine the chaos erupting of it too vividly...

She opened her locker ready to put in her overall when she noticed a reflection in the mirror that made her heart drop dead. There standing right behind her was Sherlock! She whirled around and faced him. All kinds of emotion were filling her body. There was shock, disbelief, anger but most of all joy. She hadn't known how much she had missed him until now and it put a smile on her face without her being able to prevent it. And he seriously smiled back! His face was the most gorgeous she had seen in a long time, his eyes beamed and she nearly lost her footage. Had she been in one of those tight Renaissance dresses she would have certainly fainted from the lack of oxygen due to her inability to breath properly. The shock of seeing him again after a year lasted only seconds and Molly recovered soon. She looked him dead in the eye (having to restrain herself not to laugh about the visible shock on Sherlock's face) and chastised him:

"How dare you walk in here like that! First of all you scared me to death by doing so and secondly you smile at me like nothing happened and you weren't gone for two years!", Molly scoffed and had to breath in deeply to remain calm.

Sherlock wanted to say something but she silenced him with one look and her drawn index finger.

"No, don't say anything! Because nothing you say will in any way stop me from telling you what's on my mind right now! Let me guess, I'm not the first one you visited?", she looked at him with drawn-up eyebrows.

He merely shook his head and frowned not understanding what was happening at all, but he could imagine that although Molly knew all along he was alive she would react similar to the way John had done upon seeing him: "Well, of course I saw Mycroft. He was the one commanding me back otherwise I'd still be gone..."

"What?", incredulity was plainly written on Molly's face, "I knew from Mycroft that you had things to do, concerning Moriarty's sidekicks. That you were gone more than a year was already rough, but doing this even longer? Do you have any idea what you have caused? Concerning John?", she quickly added.

"I... know...", he looked to the ground and then back to her, "I met him yesterday... told him I was back."

"You did what?"

"I told him I was..."

"I got that Sherlock, I'm just shocked... Unbelievable! I guess that's why there's a cut at your mouth and you look so wrecked. How did you approach him? What did you tell him about how you've done it, and more importantly why he couldn't know? He punched you didn't he? Sherlock...?"

Sherlock was taken aback again by how much Molly had changed and how good she had become in reading him. Or she had just worked on her deduction skills in the last two years. It was not that far-fetched a thought taking into consideration that Scotland Yard and Lestrade had lost their best Consulting Detective and needed a new one. He would have chosen Molly, too. But he dismissed that train of thoughts for now and concentrated on the topic at hand again.

"Honestly, I wanted to tell him about all the thirteen possibilities we had calculated and what we finally decided on doing but he wasn't even interested! And I think I spoiled a thing or two concerning him and this woman... There was a ring on the table and considering the expensive restaurant they were dining in I say he was about to propose to her, of course such casualties could wait and I decided to talk to him right then after disguising myself before that... I think it was for my own amusement... or maybe to lighten the atmosphere in general for you are right with telling him I was still alive being a delicate topic, indeed. It did take me three goes and several punches to even get to the part where I asked him to be my partner again and he said no, well not explicitly so, but I guess a punch in the face is a clear enough answer... Can you believe that? I come back from the dead, sort of, and he doesn't want me back!"

Molly just stared at him open-mouthed and her eyes nearly falling out of her sockets. She had to take several attempts of opening and closing her mouth before a sound came out of it: "I... I don't know what to say..."

Sherlock stepped closer to her now frowning again, because he had hopped for more of an answer and for her to understand him: "Shall I explain it to you again?"

Molly looked him in the eyes and in that moment she really wanted to slap him across the face. She totally understood John's reaction and now she knew she would have done the same. She bit her lip and pushed the thought aside, because even if she slapped him it would do no good and hadn't she just minutes ago thought about Sherlock being insensitive concerning such topics? Besides he had already got enough punishment from John. That would do.

"Just... Why haven't you come to me first... to maybe ask for a tip how to approach John? Have you at least asked Mycroft before bursting in on John and Mary? And yes that's her name by the way..."

"No, I haven't because I considered myself able to do this on my own. But I think I should have consulted you first... I'm sorry...", Molly looked up. He had done it again. He had apologized. That was enough to make her believe in his sincerity and to calm her down again.

He genuinely looked sorry and his eyes even sad about the outcome of it all. Maybe there was still hope for Sherlock in discovering the one or other feeling or recognition of human emotion after all.

Molly sighed: "I accept your apology, Sherlock! Just promise me you won't do such a thing ever again! Especially not to John!"

"I promise. But what about you? You're still upset and you were it even before I told you about the incident with John. What is it?"

"Nothing, really... And it doesn't really matter either now, does it? I'm just glad that you're back."

"Molly... Have you forgotten what I told you although it was two years ago? You do count and you most certainly matter! You did then and you still do now. I wouldn't have turned to you for advise, now, would I?"

"Who knows? Maybe you just knew I would help you no matter what and it was just something you told me to convince me to help you...", she rattled off the words, stabbing her and him equally.

"Why?" Sherlock was baffled. He never had thought about it this way. His words back then had been most sincere and it had cost him all his strength to even confide in Molly about Moriarty's plan, about his plan and it had taken even more to tell her these two little sentences: _You count Molly. You have always counted._ He had stopped himself before adding _to me._ He had felt it wasn't fair towards her considering what was about to happen and he had to admit he also had feared the words, because they had such a strong meaning to them. Sherlock buried the thought before he could further dwell on it and faced Molly again: " Why would you think that? I meant what I said, Molly and you know that!"

"I do... at least I hope I can. But considering that you left without another word and now just show up without having given me one ounce of information whatsoever over the last years I have to admit that I'm not sure what to think of you Sherlock!"

He watched her standing there before him so drained and exhausted; her deep brown eyes looking up to him like they always had done, now they seemed sad and tired but still so full of... love... Her hair was made into her usual ponytail and her lips were still slightly parted after having spoken this much. There was a feeling in his stomach he couldn't quite put a finger on. Something he oddly enough hadn't really felt before. He felt the need to go to his mind palace, explore this strange feeling although he know there was no door leading to an explanation.

Without thinking his hands suddenly wrapped around her ponytail – one hand holding it, the other one pulling the hair elastic off it. Her hair spilled over his hands and down her back. It was so soft. He never had felt anything like it and made sure to tuck away that feeling of hair on bare skin behind one of his many palace doors. Molly stood still like a statue not daring to move an inch but on the other hand also worried of what Sherlock was doing or had in mind. He grabbed a strand of her hair with each hand and put them over her shoulder, grazing it with his fingers while doing so. He only felt the cotton of her sweater which wasn't as sensational as touching her bare skin would have been... Bare skin? Why bare skin? Cotton. What cotton? Where from? What colour? What intention? His mind was so blank! Denuded of all thoughts he would have had any other time being with another person. It had to be the fact that it was Molly standing in front of him. He knew her to well to have to deduce her. But then again it was Molly who was standing so close to him and it confused him. Everything confused him!

He didn't even know what it all meant and what he was doing, when he already leaned down and brought his lips on hers. He felt her shudder and shortly stiffen – a clear sign of shock as well as of anticipation towards what was just happening. Soon enough this initial shock was overcome and her hands traveled to his head, tightly gripping his hair. It was as much of a sign he needed to know, that she didn't want him to stop and even less to let her go. Anyone who didn't know her might perceive Molly as shy, weak and small, but to Sherlock, he realized now, she had for some time now (more or less since the day he decided to openly talk to her) been of the most importance to him (next to John) and she was the strongest, most confident woman he had ever met. She was the one person aside from John that he completely trusted and who counted even though she might not believe it herself. And that was the reason he had kissed her and the reason he didn't feel the need to end it just now. He had even graved this kiss, indeed had longed for it for so long now, but never dared to make a move, because caring was not an advantage and love evolved out of caring too much. And that was, what let him realize it: The strange feeling he had felt, the reason he had talked to Molly and why she had been the second person on his mind to visit? It was all connected and it all lead to one emotion, to one word: Love! It was pure and unconditional love he had never before felt in that way.

He gently, but urgently ended the kiss and firmly looked into Molly's eyes, who was as confused as he was: "I'm sorry! Never mind that..."

He laid the elastic in her hand, turned around and went out of the room without another word. But in his mind he clearly heard Mycroft's words: "_All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock!"_ Well, it wasn't hard to deduce what love was then...


	2. Morgue of Love

Molly was doing a late shift at the morgue again, finishing a case for Lestrade. The clock was striking eleven and she was all alone. She guessed that everyone else had already left the building except for maybe the security man. He usually took a brake at this time who knew where. But who could blame him? Hardly ever something happened here and if so it was not worth a big fuzz. Molly sighed. She had to concentrate if she wanted to finish this job eventually. She covered up the corpse and put it back in it's personal drawer. Then she proceeded to cleaning her surgeon tools and disinfecting the table it had laid on moments ago. Contently she smiled upon her done work. Everything was nice and shiny again. Finally she sat down at her desk to finish the examination by filling out the documents.

Just then the door to the morgue opened. Molly jumped up scared by the sudden, unexpected noise and turned to face the door. What she saw gave her even more of a shock. Standing there in the door, watching her was Sherlock. As usual in his black coat, collar turned up, scarf around his neck – which he was just taking of.

She cleared her throat and addressed him finally after the rather awkward silence: "You scared me, Sherlock. What is it? Why are you here?"

His eyes darted to the ground as he stepped closer to her. The door fell shut behind him, making her flinch slightly. She still had to get used to the loud sounds of it all, after working in silence for so many hours.

"I wanted to see you", he finally told her looking back up to her. She could see him struggling for the right words. Sherlock Holmes? Struggling for words?

"See me?", she asked uncertainly when he didn't go on.

He nodded and looked back at the floor: "I was worried."

This whole conversation got weirder by the minute.

"Worried? Why would you be worried about me?", Molly just couldn't believe her ears.

Sherlock then looked back up to her, clear incomprehension in his eyes. He was serious with what he had said. Unbelievable. And what he said next was even more unbelievable.

"You don't know?", he asked her

"Know what?"

"Moriarty... He is back", he finally confessed, "Long story short: I was about to leave England after shooting Magnussen" – seeing the shock in her eyes he quickly explained – to protect John. I had to. Anyway I was on my way to a mission in eastern Europe when he turned up everywhere. I can't believe you haven't noticed or heard of it by now! He was on every ad, every TV channel, on simply every electronic gadget able to show pictures or emit sound..."

Molly had to lean back against her chair and then sat down completely. This was to much. And she didn't understand how it could've slipped her notice. First Sherlock shoots someone, but she could've been informed about that also tomorrow without it being a major problem. But Moriarty back? On every screen? How could she have missed that? Especially now that she was a potential threat to him and would clearly be on his list of future victims.

"I... I had to finish my work... was late, you know... and I didn't listen to the radio or checked my phone... I didn't know...", she tried to explain.

"Yes, I noticed something was off, because you didn't answer your phone. I went to your home first, but seeing you weren't there I checked here. Do you have any idea what I felt... what I had in mind? I thought of the worst! That he already had gotten to you!"

Molly put her face in her hands. She had started to tremble: "Oh god. I'm sorry Sherlock. I just... How could I assume that he was back all of a sudden? He was dead! And I had put thoughts of him aside never even thinking of the possibility that he could've faked his death like you have done. I'm sorry..."

Sherlock was in front of her all of a sudden, kneeling down and taking her hands in his: "You don't have to apologize! I understand. I was just shocked and panicked. I knew right when I heard the news from Mycroft that if he really was back I had to go straight to you. After what you did for me two years ago you are no longer safe. If he is back he knows that you are far more important than he assumed and he will use that information and he will use you. I can't let that happen!"

Tears were rolling down her eyes and a sob escaped her. She took a deep breath and bit her lip, because she couldn't loose it now: "Thank you Sherlock... for coming her... warning me or rather looking for me... I guess without you he would've gotten me already."

"No", he wiped away the tears with his thumb, smiling at her, "You would have got John and Lestrade and Mary who would have looked for you! They know what I just told you, too, and if I hadn't told them I was going to search for you they would have done it, don't you doubt that for one second! Don't doubt for one second that there's no one out there who cares for you! You matter Molly, you always have and you always will!"

New tears were welling up in her eyes. There were so many emotions swirling inside of her that she lost it and just embraced Sherlock in the heat of the moment. Under normal circumstances she would have never done that, because she knew his attitude towards affection and such gestures but now she just needed someone to give her strength. And Sherlock didn't complain, he returned the hug, stroking her back with his right hand, while the other one still held hers. After what felt like an eternity both ended the hug. As Sherlock was leaning back she whispered a broken "Thank you" towards him. He stopped in his movement and smiled at her, stroking a strand of her hair out of her face. Their faces were so close in that moment like they never had been before. And they got even closer when Sherlock suddenly pressed his lips on hers.

At first it was a soft kiss – daring, uncertain and shy. But then it got more passionate and heated. Sherlock cupped Molly's face with both his hands and she buried hers in his hair. Then he raised her up putting her on her desk, because kneeling was no longer an option. And after several papers and pencils caused quite a mess on both the desk and the floor he raised her up again carrying her to the surgical table. His coat came off soon afterwards, along with her overall that became a blanket on the cool table. After that her sweater, his shirt, her trousers and his and at last also their underwear had to literally bite the dust on the floor. What they did was inexcusable and wrong especially concerning where and when. But at the same time both had needed this, wanted this and didn't care whether it was appropriate or not. If Moriarty was back then you could equate it with the apocalypse for what he had in mind could only be big and dangerous. Wasting no precious time therefore was excusable.


End file.
